


Green is the Colour

by JLaLa



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Catching Fire, Complete, Eventual Romance, Everlark endgame, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Lothario!Peeta, Oral Sex, Prior to Quarter Quell, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Toasting, everlark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLaLa/pseuds/JLaLa
Summary: Katniss’ jealousy causes her and Peeta to embark on something that neither expected. Takes place prior to the Victory Tour and Quarter Quell.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Peeta Mellark/Multiple Partners
Comments: 51
Kudos: 236





	1. Chapter 1

_“Heavy hung the canopy of blue  
Shade my eyes and I can see you  
White is the light that shines  
Through the dress that you wore…”_

_-Pink Floyd_

**Green is the Colour**

_Part One_

“Katniss, we should go,” Gale calls out. “I got to get to the mines soon.”

I stand after resetting one of our traps and wipe my hands on my pants. We didn’t get much; it’s winter and all the game have gone into hibernation to avoid the cold weather.

Giving Gale a curt nod, I join him, and we head towards the electrical fence that borders District 12.

Our walk is relatively silent because lately I’ve found we have less to talk about. Gale will never understand what it’s been like since returning from the Games. Nightmares are a nightly occurrence, and I am triggered by the simplest of things.

Just this morning as I made my first shot, I had to push away the image of Marvel falling to the ground, an arrow protruding out of his front.

The remembrance pushed a chill through my veins, and it pulsed through my body like poison, causing my lungs to close in.

I could never tell Gale about any of this. We’re not like that.

I’m not like that anymore; the kind of person that never cared to feel.

My emotions are played out like a nightly slideshow when the terrors take hold.

Needless to say, I am not coping well to being a Victor.

Gale helps me get underneath the fence and back into 12, his hand lingering in mine much too long for my liking. I speed up just so, releasing his hand as I move forward.

I ignore the hurt in his grey eyes. He came back to me with expectations and I can’t give that to him anymore. Maybe before there might have been the slimmest chance, but now, I don’t feel comfort in his presence.

Other than the fact that hunting with him brings back a sense of normalcy, I don’t much want him around me. It’s cruel, I know, but the truth of the matter is that the girl he knew is buried in that arena—right along with the rest of the Tributes.

We find ourselves back in Victors’ Village and I look over to Haymitch’s empty porch, reminding myself to make sure he hasn’t drowned himself in alcohol.

“Looks like Mellark has a new bed warmer.”

I turn at Gale’s snide remark to find Peeta stepping out of his house, his arm around the waist of a blonde—Carly Merriweather, the daughter of the local seamstress. She giggles as he presses his mouth to her ear whispering something that immediately earns a slap to his chest.

Carly steps down from the porch, giving me and Gale a nod, before heading out the archway of Victors’ Village.

As for Peeta, he nods firmly at Gale before his gaze meets mine.

His blue eyes are cool…detached…as he gives me a onceover in my bloodstained clothes and messy braid.

Then, he disappears back into his house.

“Who knew Mellark had it in him?” Gale says as we reached my own house. “He’s rivaling those Capitol Jewels the way he’s going.”

I don’t have it in me to tell Gale that Peeta is now District 12’s Lothario because of me.

++++++

I broke him.

Peeta believed that I had fallen in love with him, that I had wanted it to be real. So, when the cold, cruel truth of my lie came forth, it turned Peeta into something no one expected.

Once the cameras of the Capitol were gone, we moved into our respective homes and ceased communicating.

Then, a month into our return, a brunette walked into Victors’ Village and came knocking on Peeta’s door. It was Ananda Capri, the blacksmith’s daughter. He greeted her, his hand lingering at the small of her back before inviting her inside and closing the door with a resounding slam.

She was the first that I know of. However, Peeta often goes to see his parents, not returning for days at a time. Who knows whose bed he’s warming when he’s in town?

Since then, the women come and go…blondes…brunettes…one chesty redhead that made me examine my own miniscule chest. Peeta doesn’t seem to have a preference when it comes to looks or age—I’ve seen a few widowers make their way over to his porch.

The requests for contraceptives have overwhelmed my mother.

I can’t be hurt off his dismissal because I was the one who lied, even if it had been to protect him and our families. For someone as pure and kind as Peeta was, I expected nothing less but nohatred at my betrayal.

However today, I push my thoughts aside as I head into Haymitch’s house to find Peeta and our mentor eating freshly baked bread.

“Hi.”

I pull a chair out and sit across from Peeta. He’s broader and has bulked up over the time we’ve been home. I discreetly take in his swept back golden waves, firm jaw, and deep blue eyes.

Once upon a time, those eyes looked at me like I was the goddamn moon.

Now, there’s nothing but blankness as our eyes meet.

“So Star-Crossed Lovers, Effie has informed me that the Victory Tour will be in two months,” Haymitch explains, pouring himself a drink, as he eyes our frosted stares at one another. “I suggest that you—” He turns to Peeta. “—stop whoring around with anything that has a muff in-between and you—” The man looks to me. “—start learning how to act like you have more than two emotions.”

Peeta snorts and crosses his arms. “Good luck with that.”

I scowled and turn to Haymitch.

“You better have Effie send over a medical team to make sure Peeta’s clean.”

His face immediately flares in anger and Peeta stands up. “What I do is none of your—” His raging eyes go to me. “—or the Capitol’s business.”

I meet Peeta in the middle, standing up. “It is when that Star-Crossed Lovers story is what kept us alive!”

Up close, I can see how his eyes dilate as he stares at me, there’s a bit of grey around his blues. I remember staring down at them in that cave during the Games, when it was just him and me. When he didn’t hate me and when for a moment, our story seemed real.

“Both of you, sit down.” Haymitch’s command is steely and we follow, going back to our seats. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two—no, I know what is. The point is that, in two months, you’re going to be paraded around the Districts and you better damn well show them some unity if you want to stay alive.”

Peeta nods before standing up once more and grabbing his things.

“Is this even living?” he asks sharply, his eyes on me.

Before I can get a word in edgewise, he’s gone with a slam of Haymitch’s door.

++++++

His porch is no longer visited. Peeta has taken Haymitch’s words to heart.

Instead, he occupies himself with baking.

Hours on end, we smell the scent of yeast…sometimes rye…even sugar.

One afternoon, Prim comes home from school to find a basket of cookies and cheese rolls on our porch. Every morning as I get home from a fruitless hunt, Peeta is stalking over to Haymitch’s porch with a fresh loaf in his hands.

He might have spent the last few months taking care of his cock, but I can’t say that he doesn’t care for Haymitch.

It’s me that Peeta can’t stand.

I am fine with his cool behavior towards me.

However, as the next month begins, I see that the wool has been pulled over my eyes.

I step out onto the porch to meet Gale for a hunt and find Peeta letting Sylvia Gardner out of his house.

Usually, I would be indifferent to another one of Peeta’s girls leaving after the night—but Sylvia is 15. She might not look it, being much more developed than me, but she’s a _child_.

I hide behind a pillar and watch them talk for a moment before Sylvia reaches up to kiss Peeta on the cheek.

Haymitch said that I needed to learn to feel more than two emotions.

A new feeling suddenly wells inside my stomach as I see the way Sylvia looks at Peeta in adoration—disappointment. He promised that he wouldn’t fool around anymore. The Peeta that I remember lived up to his word and knowing that boy is not there leaves me stung.

As Sylvia steps down from the porch, she suddenly turns and reaches to caress Peeta’s jawline as a light laugh escapes her full, pink lips.

Another much more dangerous emotion surges through me.

Jealousy.

Thick, hot torrents of it pulsed through my body, filling me with a fire that I thought was extinguished in the Games.

It’s what fuels me my feet as I make my way over to his porch. Peeta spots me as he’s upon to close the door and his eyes widen as I reached him.

“Katniss—” I shove him into his house and slam the door shut behind me. Peeta almost trips over his feet before righting himself and stepping up to where I stand. “—what is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with you?” I demand to know. “Sylvia? She’s a year older than Prim for fuck sakes!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Peeta doesn’t stand down, instead approaching me with fury in his blue eyes. He’s fuming, his face red and his nostrils flaring. “I have not been with anyone since Haymitch—”

“Good for you,” I seethe in response. “One whole month of keeping your cock in your pants.” I laugh bitterly. “But no—you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You had to go for a child—”

“You want to lecture me on not keeping control?” he retorts sharply. “Why don’t you talk to Gale about people not keeping in control?”

I recoil, my back hitting the flat of the door. “Gale would never—”

“Sylvia is pregnant,” Peeta informs me, his voice cold. “Your boyfriend’s little brother refuses to help her.”

“Vick,” I state hollowly.

He always had an eye for pretty girls and was usually successful in taking them to the slag heap.

“Her parents are friends with mine and she came to me for help,” he continues. “I gave her money for an abortion. I’m sure Sylvia will be coming to see your mother when she can get away from work.” Peeta points his finger at me. “So, don’t you dare come into my house and accuse me of something you don’t know anything about.”

“You can’t act like you’re surprised that I’d ask,” I argue. “The way you’ve been bringing women over at night—”

“Let’s get down to what this is really about,” he interrupts. “You’re jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous of them?” I push my chin up at him, crossing my arms. “I don’t want to be another girl on your list.”

“Not them. Me.” Peeta is standing right in front of me now, a smirk on his lips. He’s so close that I can feel his body heat radiating against me and my stomach coils at the sensation. “Because I can feel…anger…rage…happiness…arousal…pleasure—and you, Katniss, can’t feel _anything_.”

I blink, surprised when two fat tears roll down my cheeks. Quickly, I swipe them away but it’s too late because Peeta has already seen the crack in my façade.

“There,” I tell him. “You see? I can feel one thing—disgust.” I step forward. “This Peeta Mellark disgusts me.”

Peeta shakes his head. “You’re not disgusted. You’re curious.”

I reel at his statement. “About what?”

“Take off your pants and find out.”

My breath catches at his words and something inside…flips. “Why would I do that?”

Peeta lifts my chin with his finger.

“We’re supposed to be in love, right? Isn’t that what you signed us up for?” His finger travels along my jaw as his thumb finds its way against my lower lip. “How are we supposed to look like lovers if you don’t even look like you’ve been touched?”

“Is that why you’ve had half the women in District 12?” His other hand fiddles with my braid before moving the elastic off and running his fingers along my hair to unravel it. “So, you look like a competent lover?”

Peeta shakes his head.

“I don’t sleep. It’s better to have something—or someone—to occupy your time if you aren’t.” On closer observation, I see the hollow circles of exhaustion around his eyes. “That way, there’s no nightmares.”

“You have nightmares, too?” Peeta nods and I melt back against the door. “At least we have that in common.”

We go silent for a moment, his proposition hanging in-between us. There is a part of me that is curious about what he offers, but I realize that he’s offered it to several others. I don’t know if I can become one of them.

“Can I ask you something?” Peeta suddenly blurts out. I nod and he meets my inquisitive stare. “What made you come here now? There have been others, but you’ve never come over—until now.”

I look away. I know I won’t be able to answer with him staring at me.

“The way Sylvia touched you. She moved her fingers along the line of your jaw.” I turn to him, my index finger following the squared angles of his jawline. “I used to touch you there—in the cave…before you hated me—"

My words are suddenly cut off by his lips covering mine.

Peeta’s kiss is all-encompassing. His tongue explores the inside of my mouth, swirling along mine before his lips sandwich my bottom one, sucking and tugging till it’s swollen.

This kiss isn’t romantic, nor sweet, but possessive.

It’s meant to show me that Peeta is in control and I either go along or turn around and go home.

We pull apart and his eyes ask me what my choice is.

Reaching, my hands undo the button at my waist before I drag the zipper down the line. My eyes remain squarely on his, each movement of my undressing causing his blue eyes to darken. By the time, my pants are at my ankles and I kick them off, along with my boots—they have gone completely black.

I stand in front of him in my jacket, a button down, and pair of panties—completely soaked.

I don’t have to look down to feel the slick along my inner thighs.

Peeta remains silent, instead going to help me remove my jacket wordlessly. He tosses it to the ground before going to my top, undoing each button. My breath hitches as he reveals the plain white bra that encases my breasts.

“You can leave anytime you want,” he suddenly tells me, his finger teasing along the cups of my bra.

I take a deep breath before reaching behind to undo the clasp then shrug my bra off along with my shirt.

Peeta inhales through a clenched jaw as he looks me over.

Small breasts…slim waist…wide hips…

When our eyes meet again, I see the Peeta that I knew before—the one that looked at me with care.

He moves forward, a warm hand going to the curve of my waist.

Peeta leans in, his lips against my neck.

“Close your eyes, Katniss.” He nips at the sensitive skin, licking along the line up to my ear. “I can feel you thinking.”

I follow, closing my eyes. “What am I thinking about?”

His mouth bites at the tip of my lobe and my body tightens at that one motion, my nipples going hard, and core pulsing.

“Whether or not this is a good idea.” His hands travel up my waist, stopping along the sides of my breasts and he thumbs my nipples. A groan escapes me, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s not, but we’re going to do it, anyway.”

My hands find their way to his face, cradling his jaw in my palms.

“No one gets to touch you here but me,” I demand, sudden possessiveness taking over. “Fuck all the women you want but don’t let them touch you here.”

“I don’t think you have any say,” he tells me in a sharp voice.

However, there’s a tinge of tenderness in his retort.

Seamlessly, Peeta falls to his knees, his lips going to my belly button then down my lower abdomen and along the line of my panties. The cloth is drenched and see through, revealing my hairless mons and netherlips.

“They did that in the Capitol,” I inform him. “It hasn’t grown back since.”

An indistinguishable groan escapes his mouth as he gently pulls my panties down.

Peeta’s hands go to my thighs, pushing them apart, and I watch him examine my bare cunt. I am obviously aroused, the wetness spread throughout my center and along the inside of my thighs. The blood rushing down has caused my labia to swell and I clench just a bit when Peeta’s parts my lips, just slightly, to look inside.

“All for me?” he asks.

Then, Peeta’s tongue swipes along my slit in one smooth motion.

A sudden cry escapes my mouth as the pleasure takes over. It’s nothing I’ve ever felt; the sensation of his rough tongue causes my body to react simultaneously. My stomach twists almost painfully and my nipples tightened as if his fingers are there.

He looks up to see my reaction and a small grin rises seeing me so undone before him. The sight of him, blue eyes glazed and his jaw line shining with my arousal has its own effect on me. Somewhere deep inside, I know I mean something to Peeta.

The spell breaks and his mouth is back on cunt, lapping up my juices as his hands hold my thighs open. I rub myself along his tongue, feeling every bit of tingling goodness, the bareness of my skin intensifying every little motion.

When he suddenly thrusts his tongue up and inside, my head slams back against the door. “Fuck!”

I’m not sure if I’m hurt and I don’t care.

The feeling of riding Peeta’s tongue is all that matters. I’m grasping to feel more as my hand finds a way to the back of his head, grabbing onto his hair. He groans against me, sending another rush of heat to course through my body.

I can feel myself edging…falling, and I rush headlong not knowing what is going to happen.

Peeta senses it too, because he presses forward, moving my thighs onto his shoulders.

“Make yourself come,” he demands, breath against my sensitive lips.

I falter, sinking against his shoulders. “I don’t know how.”

Peeta looks up at me, almost aghast, before bringing my hand to my clit.

“Use your index and middle fingers. It seems to work for most.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask how many he’s seen come using this method, but I bite the words back and instead do what he says. He watches as I bring my index and middle fingers to my center—but not before gathering some slick to wet them. Peeta shifts, eyes on my digits, as I bring them to the bundle of nerves underneath the hood of my mons.

Sliding my fingers along my bud, my hips suddenly jerk at the sudden goodness of touching myself. It feels…incredible. My eyes close and I lose myself to the biting pleasure as I rub my clit in front of Peeta.

“That’s it,” he encourages.

Then his tongue is lapping me up as I ride his face, my back against the door.

“Almost…” I breathe out and he hums in approval.

My fingers move blindingly, climbing and reaching out for that moment. Somewhere in the haze, I hear my cries intermingled with his own muffled ones…and my hips are moving at a blazing pace as my whole body fills with fire as it tightens…and I’m right there—

“AHHH—Peeta!”

My hips spasm as I climax, my cunt pressing to his tongue and a hand yanking his hair, and the goodness washes over me. The world around us has faded and the whole of the Capitol could come barging in and I wouldn’t even notice.

Slowly, I feel myself sink to the floor and eyes closed, I let myself enjoy the thrum of my body in the aftermath. I can hear Peeta panting in front of me as I catch my own breath.

Opening my eyes, I’m greeted with Peeta sitting in front of me, his eyes roaming my body. My skin is shining and tinged with rosiness.

His hand reaches out, before suddenly drawing back—

“I should probably go,” I blurt out.

Reaching down, I grab my panties and bra and quickly put them back on. My underwear is ruined, and I grimace as I yank my pants back on.

My eyes search for my top when it’s being held out in front of me.

Peeta meets my eyes as I take it from his grasp and throw it back on. He steps towards me and begins to button my top.

“What now?” I find myself asking as he finishes buttoning me up.

Lifting my chin, Peeta dips his mouth down to mine. I taste myself against his tongue and a rush of longing hits me once more.

We pull apart and he steps back, blue eyes suddenly light.

For a moment, I think I have him back.

Then Peeta wipes his mouth along his arm, cleaning our last kiss from his lips.

“That’s entirely up to you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, there's a fair amount of smut in this chapter.

_“She lay in the shadow of the wave  
Hazy were the visions overplayed  
Sunlight on her eyes but moonshine  
Made her blind everytime…”_

_-Pink Floyd_

**Green is the Colour**

_Part Two_

“How’s your mother?” I ask Gale as we finish up and I place the rabbit that we caught into a bag.

I was not as late as I thought after coming from Peeta’s house. Gale barely noticed the warmth of my cheeks, chalking it up to me rushing over to meet him and not because I spent my morning with Peeta between my legs.

“The usual,” he informs me, distracted as he resets the traps.

“How about Posy? And the boys?”

Gale stands, looking to meet in curiosity.

“Posy is fine—she just lost a tooth—but that’s about it. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just haven’t seen them in a while,” I reply.

“Maybe you should get out of Victors’ Village and come see us,” Gale tells me. “Remember where you came from.”

“I didn’t forget,” I retort angrily. “I just had a lot on my mind.”

Gale falters slightly.

“I know.” He sighs to himself. “Sometimes, it seems like I lost you. Then again, I’m not sure I ever had you.”

I step forward and he shakes his head. The divide between us seems wider than ever.

“We should go,” I tell him.

Heading towards the fence, we go silent, mourning the friendship that is fading.

“Vick is seeing a new girl,” Gale suddenly says. “I think he’s serious about this one.”

“Really? Who is she?”

Immediately, I think of Sylvia, hoping that he’s going to take some responsibility.

“Laurel Grainger,” he informs me.

Laurel is from the Seam, sharing the same olive skin and dark features as the rest of us. She seems like the likely choice for Vick.

“I always thought he liked blondes,” I remark as we reach the fence. “He seemed so popular with Merchant girls.”

There’s a flicker in his eyes and I immediately realize that Gale knows about Sylvia. Gale and Vick are close, there would be no doubt that his little brother would ask for advice.

“Vick knows better than that,” he simply replies before going under the fence and avoiding my gaze.

I don’t know what bothers me more: Gale’s callousness or Peeta’s blunt candor when it comes to life in District 12.

++++++

Sylvia comes to the house, a few days later, tears running down her cheeks. This coincides with the news of Vick’s engagement to Laurel, announced the day before.

I let her into the house, ushering her into the den that my mother uses as her exam room, and let my mom know that she’s here.

They disappear for a long while, but Prim and I can hear the weeping coming through the door.

Prim looks to me. “I know what Vick did,” she tells me, her blue eyes solemn. “Rory told me. Why would he do that with her if he didn’t even like her?”

“Sometimes people get swept up in the moment,” I explain. “But I think that Sylvia really thought Vick loved her.”

“I don’t understand,” my sister says.

I take a deep breath, realizing that I’m not even sure how to explain love and sex to Prim.

Finally, I reply, “I think that’s the problem. Until the situation is right in front of you, you can’t understand. You can’t really choose who you love…who you give yourself to.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “Whenever that time comes, I think you’ll make the right choice.”

Prim nods and I pull her into my arms. She is growing up so fast, hardly the girl I left when I went to the Games. My win has hardened her as it has hardened me.

However, I want Prim to be happy; to love and be loved.

I don’t want her to be me.

“You should go and do your homework,” I tell her, kissing her forehead.

When she heads upstairs and to her room, I immediately turn and step out of the house. My feet lead me up to the porch the next door and I knock quickly.

It’s less than a minute when Peeta opens the door. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt, an apron around his waist and flour dusted slacks.

Warily, Peeta widens the door and I step inside.

“What do you want?” he asks immediately.

I cross my arms. “Why did we do it?”

Peeta cocks his head. “What?”

“That.” I gesture to the door. “What we did there.”

He looks at me for a moment, before waving his hand.

“Come with me.”

I follow him to the back of the house and into the kitchen. He’s baking, dough resting on the kitchen island as the smell of bread wafts through the room.

“I’m in the middle of something,” he informs me before going back to dough, adding flour, and kneading. “Go on.”

“Why did we?” I repeat.

“Because you were curious and so was I,” he replies, eyes on the dough.

“Oh.” I stand awkwardly, avoiding his stare. “I’m not really sure why I even came here…maybe because Sylvia is with my mom and I know what’s she asking her for. I feel too close to the whole situation.”

I stop when I realize I’m rambling and instead sit on the stool in front of him, watching him knead.

“Can we just talk about something…anything?”

Peeta looks up, a smirk on his mouth. “Did you like it?”

“Didn’t I come? That’s enough to assume that I enjoyed it.”

“You can have an orgasm and not enjoy yourself,” Peeta explains. “Trust me, I’ve done it many times.”

I raise a brow. “Now I’m starting to wonder how clean you are.”

“I’m always protected,” he assures me. “I’m not making Vick’s mistake.”

I nod, watching his hands fold in the dough.

Hands that, just a few days ago, spread my thighs apart so he could lick me to completion.

“Do you want to help?” Peeta asks suddenly. I stare at him doubtfully. “Come on. Be useful!”

I scowl and he suddenly laughs, the furrow on his expression melting away.

I lift my chin and join his side.

“Go on, just fold the dough,” he tells me.

Gently, I do as he says, taking the sticky dough and pulling into a fold.

He rolls his eyes and goes behind me. His arms reach, covering my hands with his.

“You can do better than that,” Peeta says. “Put a little more pressure—” He guides my hands, folding the dough and showing me the amount of stress that I need. “—that’s it.”

I’m trapped between his arms—his mouth against my ear—and I feel the stirring in my stomach.

“Is this how you ensnare women?” I counter. “You teach them how to bake?”

His lips brush against my ear and I bite back a moan.

“They come to me.” He presses a wet kiss to my neck. “You came to me.” I look over my shoulder and his lips are so close to mine—just a mere movement will cause them to meet. “Why are you here?”

Neither of us has any choice as Victors, for now, our public lives are run by the Capitol and by Snow, but here in this house, we still have a sliver of freedom.

In this moment, I choose Peeta.

“Because—” I push back, feeling him hard against me. “I want more.”

Peeta doesn’t waste any time, his mouth immediately slants over mine, and I allow it. I let him roughly enter my mouth with his tongue, and I welcome the taste of sugar from his saliva as we kiss. This isn’t about love or romance, but of pure hunger.

“What do you mean by more?” he asks, his lips dragging along mine. One hand slides down cupping my bottom, caressing a cheek, while the other travels underneath my shirt to pull down the cup of my bra to pinch my already sensitive nipple. “Like this?”

My hand goes to the nape of his neck and I push up, peppering his neck with kisses. I suck against the skin, knowing that there will be marks and if he goes to town—everyone will know he’s claimed.

Jealousy has ruined me. Because it made me realize just how much I have come to want Peeta without thought of consequence or morals.

Peeta hisses, breath pushing against his clenched teeth. “Fuck, Katniss. What do you want from me?”

“You,” I tell him. “Everyone thinks we’re lovers and others know we’re not. We can make the choice to be with one another, not for the cameras or Snow, but because it feels good. Because I want to feel good…because _you_ make me feel good.”

“Upstairs,” Peeta demands as he grabs my hand. We head out of the kitchen—not before first turning off the oven first and removing his apron—before he pulls me up the stairs.

He takes me into the first room, rumpled sheets greet me, and I immediately turn back to him.

“Not here, not where you’ve been with other women.” Peeta looks at me incredulously and I sigh. “I know. Who am I to demand that you fuck me—”

“Just stop,” he replies in exasperation. Peeta yanks me over to the next room, this one with a made bed. “Better?”

“Much.” I throw my arms around his neck, slamming my mouth to his as I press against his crotch, grinding my center along his clothed length. “Please…”

His hands pull at my shirt, tugging it over my head, and tossing it away. Peeta doesn’t wait to remove my bra, jerking the cups down and taking one taut nipple into his mouth.

“Oh—” The sensation of his mouth on my breast travels all the way down to my clit. “—fuck.”

“You’re so sensitive,” Peeta tells me, his voice rough. “What if I do this—” The tip of his tongue swirls along my areola and my back arches, pushing my tit to his mouth. He groans against my skin. “This is how I like you…aching for me.”

I pull away, meeting his gaze. “Other than this, you hate me.”

Peeta stares at me, conflict in his eyes. “You hurt me.”

“I know,” I say quietly.

The setting sun fills the room with an orange glow, Peeta is bathe in the light, making him look like an avenging angel.

Carefully, I reach, my forehead going to his. He closes his eyes, breathing harshly against me.

“I don’t know what I can do so that you’ll forgive me,” I start. “But I am here if you want me. We don’t even know one another enough to hate each other.”

Peeta chuckles bitterly. “I don’t hate you. I hate your actions.” His hand travels along my bare back. “But it’s damn hard to keep being mad at you when you’re half-naked.”

I laugh before placing a small kiss against his firm lips. “What if I’m completely naked?”

Something takes over and I pull away, backing towards the bed as I unbutton my pants before sliding them, along with my shoes, off.

Eyes still on him, I undo my bra, letting it fall to the ground then reach to take my panties off.

Peeta joins me, eyes admiring my figure. “How can I be mad at this?”

“I’m up here.” He looks up and smiles at my words. A real smile, genuinely sweet and genuinely him. Something inside flutters at the sight of it. “Can we just try? Not because of the Victory Tour or anything else, but for us.”

“Katniss, I’ve done things,” he begins. “Things that were made to hurt you—”

“The other women?” Peeta nods. “I wasn’t happy, I’ll admit, but I also understand. The nights are the hardest for me, too.”

My hands reach to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. My own eyes look over his firm pecs, strong abdomen, and the gold of his skin in the rust light.

“I’m up here,” he jokes. My gaze shoots up to the quirk on his lips before he sobers. “I wasn’t mean to them or anything. They were lonely, so was I, and we took from each other.” Peeta meets my eyes, warmth reflected in his own. “In the end, they weren’t you and sometimes that made it lonelier. No one will ever understand me like you—”

I cut him off with a kiss, my eyes squeezed shut to keep tears from falling.

No one will understand the horrors we see when we shut our eyes.

Except each other.

My hand reach to his pants, undoing the button on his waist and pulling the zipper down. I reached underneath the band of his underwear to find him firm in my grasp as I begin to pump him. He swells along my hand and my thumb grazes along the head of his cock.

Peeta gasps into my mouth, briefly moving away. “All I ever wanted was you.”

He moves us towards the bed and suddenly I’m falling back against the mattress. His body covers mine, as he pushes his pants off and to the floor. There’s nothing left between us but his briefs and together we shift till my head rests on a pillow.

“Look at you,” he says, his mouth dipping down to mine. “Naked and laid out before me.”

His hand runs along the curves of my body, cupping one of my breasts while leaning down to suckle the other. I could come just by the way his tongue flicks at my nipple. Slowly, he moves down my body until his hand is between my thighs once more.

I want him to touch me, put his fingers inside.

“So wet for me.” Peeta meets my hungry gaze. “What do you want?”

I push my pelvis up. “I…I… _please_ …”

He leans down till the tips of our noses touch, quickly nipping my bottom lip. “Tell me.”

“Your fingers…inside me,” I tell him in quick rush.

Peeta nods, kissing me deep, his tongue brushing along mine as his fingers explore my cunt. He runs his fingers along my slit, slick with arousal, as he continues to tease me with his lips. I’m on the edge, my skin tingling with desperate anticipation.

Then he thrusts, quick and rough inside me.

I wail into his mouth, my inside pulsing around his digits.

His mouth moves from mine. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He smiles, reverence in his stare. “You’re all beautiful and pink—just for me.”

I’ve lost all restrained. “Move them…fuck me with—”

My request is cut off by his mouth fusing to mine as he rocks his fingers inside me, his thumb moving along my clit.

My hands find the elastic of his briefs and I pushed them off, feeling the firm flesh of his ass. He twists, briefly leaving our kiss to tug them down and off.

There is nothing left between us.

I reach my hand to his chin, caressing it tenderly.

“Inside,” I say softly.

Slowly, Peeta slides his fingers out of my center, eyes on me, shocked at my request.

“Are you sure?”

I nod, shifting underneath him, spreading my legs to cradle him between my hips.

“This is your first time,” he tells me.

I snort. “I’m aware.”

Peeta stares at me in shock. “And you want it to be me?”

“I trust you.”

My hand reaches, encircling his cock, guiding it towards my core.

“Wait.” Peeta pushes off me. “I need to get a cond—”

“We’re fine,” I assure him. “After the Games, they gave me a physical along with a contraceptive that lasts a full year. We’re still okay for a few more weeks.” I sit up. “Unless you don’t want to. You’ve had a lot more experience than I have, and it probably won’t be good—”

He reaches to the nape of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss and I melt against him immediately.

Peeta rips his mouth away from mine. “I want you, Katniss. Don’t you ever think any different.”

“Then, what are you waiting for?”

I lay back, waiting as he slowly shifts back on top of me.

“It might hurt,” Peeta says softly. “Also, this is my first time without anything covering…it might not last long.”

I grin, finding comfort in his sweet nervousness. “Don’t back out on me now.”

My lips find his, soft and slow, and my legs part to welcome him.

I feel him prodding at my slit as he slowly pushes, until inch by inch, Peeta’s cock nestles inside me.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes meeting mine. “Are you okay?”

I nod, moving my hips. “I feel…full, but there’s still some resistance.”

“I haven’t broken your hymen,” he explains, letting out another breath. “Oh fuck, you’re _tight_ …so I’m going to have to go a little harder.”

I can feel him inside, throbbing and hot, trying so hard to keep control when I don’t want him to.

“It’s okay—” I raise my arms over my head, presenting my breasts to him, nipples pink and aching. “—do it. I’m not made of glass.”

Peeta shakes his head, letting out a tender sigh, and pressing his forehead to mine.

“You’re made of fire,” he tells me.

My hand reaches to caress his cheek and he leans into my palm. “Burn with me.”

Pulling out until just so the head of his cock is inside me, our eyes meet, and he thrusts inside once more, this time a little harder and pushing through my barrier.

“Ahh!”

The cry falls out of mouth, more from surprise and not the pain. It’s almost feels like a pinch, the pain quick but the aftereffect taking its time to fade.

Peeta moves my hair off my face so he can take a good look at me. “Are you okay?”

I nod. “Yes, just took me by surprise.”

He rests his forehead to mine. “I wish you had been my first. I’m so sorry, Katniss.”

“There he is,” I say.

“What?”

“The Peeta who cared about me,” I reply, tears stinging my eyes. “I thought I lost him.”

“I never stop caring,” he rasps.

Our lips meet as we slowly begin to move, soon the pain fades and I’m crying out into his mouth. My hips urged his…move faster…go harder…and I reach down between us to rub my clit.

The crest begins to build as I move my fingers along the firm bud and I can feel my insides fluttering, pulling his cock deeper inside and it takes a single groan from him to set me off—

I explode, bursts of white blinding me, as my orgasm is ripped from my body.

“Peeta!” I wail against our kiss and I feel the warmth of his come filling me, his own cries mingling in the room. “Oh God…”

He gently pulls out, shivering from the sensitivity of his softening cock, before lying beside me.

The room is warm, smelling of sex, and we’re both glistening with sweat, but I could care less.

We’re just us in this moment.

“No one else,” I tell him. “Okay?”

I had said it was okay for him to fuck other people, but now my jealous heart won’t allow it.

“Okay,” he agrees. “No one else.”

++++++

_One Month Later…_

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

On his bed, Peeta thrusts languidly from behind, one arm firmly around my waist as his free hand plays with my breasts.

I already feel my climax approaching, the deep penetration always causes an early orgasm. We learned this about two weeks into our meetings when Peeta suddenly flipped me onto my stomach and upon being entering, I immediately came.

“Almost there,” I tell him, turning to kiss him.

It’s still early in the morning, too early to hunt, but not too early for me to make my way over to Peeta’s house. Whenever I return home, my mother assumes it’s from a hunt and so far, it seems that we have kept whatever this is a secret.

My favorite part of all of this is after.

We sleep in one another’s arms—no nightmares—just the feeling of safety between us.

However, I know time is running short for us.

Today, Effie along with Cinna and his team will be coming to District 12. We will film our quick interview with Caesar Flickerman and then the day after we will be on The Victory Tour. I am anxious, knowing that we will be visiting the homes of Tributes who we once trained with and fought against. My stomach flutters just at the thought of seeing Rue’s family.

However, right now, my mind is purely focused on the welling up of my orgasm.

“I’m going to come…” I cry out hoarsely as I feel the telltale flutter from my cunt.

Peeta’s thrusts become erratic and he’s at the brink of his own climax. I help him along, my mouth suctioning to his neck, licking along the sensitive skin, until he’s knees begin to give out.

“Katniss…Katniss…” I suck at the juncture of his neck. “Kat…FUCK!”

Peeta comes hard, spurts of his come filling me as we begin to slow. He rests his head on top of mine, before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“You didn’t come,” he murmurs into my hair.

I snort as we fall onto the mattress. “How do you know?”

“I know your body.” Peeta pulls me close. “Do you know how much I love whenever I feel you tighten around me? It’s nirvana.”

“Well, there are other ways to make me come.”

Peeta’s hand is already cupping one breast as his mouth closes in on the nipple of the other.

My eyes begin to drift close, awaiting the tingle of his tongue circling—

“Peeta!” Haymitch’s voice bellows interrupting our morning interlude. “Open up!”

I shoot up from the bed, as Peeta moves off me. “Shit!”

He reaches for his pajama pants and throws a shirt on.

“I’ll see what he wants, and he’ll be on his way,” Peeta assures me. “He’s probably wondering where his loaf is.” He leans down and kisses me. “Just relax and I’ll be up after.”

Nodding, I wrap a sheet around myself, listening as Peeta walks down the stairs and opens the door for Haymitch.

“Katniss!” Haymitch calls out. “I know you’re here! Come down!”

I heave a sigh and grab my clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part will be coming hopefully before the new year. There are some things that will still remain from canon and others that I will omit. Just keep an open mind and enjoy. Honestly, this fic I wrote just for s**ts and giggles. 
> 
> Thank you if you're still reading.
> 
> Be safe and happy holidays!
> 
> -JLaLa


	3. Chapter 3

“ _Green is the colour of her kind_

_Quickness of the eye_

_Deceives the mind_

_Envy is the bond between_

_The hopeful and the damned_ …”

_-Pink Floyd_

**Green is the Colour**

_Part Three_

When I’m dressed, I find Peeta and Haymitch in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Our mentor is tearing through a roll and when I step in, Peeta hands me a cup of tea, giving me an assuring smile.

I settle in a chair, opposite of Haymitch and he eyes me.

Sipping my tea, I place it down, meeting his stare. “How long have you known?”

“Pretty much since you came barging into this house after seeing him with Sylvia,” Haymitch retorts. “You need to get that jealousy in check, girl.”

“I thought you wanted me to feel more than two emotions.”

“I think you went a little overboard,” our mentor counters.

Peeta joins my side, hand going to my shoulder, letting Haymitch know where he stands.

Neither of us intend to stop whatever this is; we decided that right away. It is the one thing that we have that Snow doesn’t control. Haymitch obviously understands, his grey eyes meeting mine in a semblance of empathy.

“It looks like you’ve made your decision. Idiotic choice—but what’s done is done,” he continues. “However, now that you’re really…together…you need to make sure that Snow doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t he think we’re madly in love?” Peeta asks.

“No, he thinks that Katniss is _pretending_ to be in love with you,” Haymitch explains. “And that you are none the wiser.”

“Then, how does that change what’s going on now?” I question. “We continue as we are.”

“You don’t think you’ve changed? That you’re not any different?” Haymitch shakes his head at me. “How many hunts have you been on since you and Peeta started getting carnal—” I open my mouth to respond, trying to think of the days that I’ve made it past the fence. “—let me answer for you. Five. Twice that first week…maybe you were feeling a little guilty…but you got over that and it’s been once a week since.”

I pull myself in, fold my hands together, and meet his eyes.

“Gale has been busy at the mines. We usually go together.”

“Don’t you think Snow watches for things like that?” Our mentor questions. “These tiny changes in your routine?”

Peeta squeezes my shoulder gently. “Then, what do you suggest?”

“Rein it in while we’re still here,” Haymitch says. “I know that you two can’t go a day or two without—" He cringes a little. “—being together, but once we’re on the train, you’ll have to play happy couple again. Then, when we’re in the Capitol, you show a decent amount of fear over Snow making sure you look in love and we might make it out alive.”

“Just to be clear—you want us to pretend to be in love for the Capitol, but act like we’re not for Snow?” Peeta asks.

“This is about making sure Snow doesn’t realize that it’s become _real_ ,” Haymitch says. “Once he knows that, he’s in control and then you’re in even more danger.”

He looks to me, grey eyes full of steel.

“Once Snow realizes that Peeta is desirable to you, he won’t hesitate to make Peeta a Capitol Jewel—and you have a jealous streak a million miles long. He’ll exploit that and make you his puppet for compliance.”

Haymitch turns to Peeta, care in his gaze.

“If Snow finds out that you know about Katniss’ lie and that you’re just playing along, he knows you’ll do anything he wants to keep her safe. He’ll make you choose between things and people. Are you ready to sacrifice your family for her? Ready to give your body over to the Capitol Elite?”

Neither of us reply, but during Haymitch’s questioning, my hand has found its way to Peeta’s hand on my shoulder.

I won’t let him get hurt. He’ll do the same.

We’re in too deep—to our detriment.

I’m not sure if it is love, but there is a loyalty that has come with our intimacy.

Haymitch’s gaze strays to where our hands rest; in some way, I think he understands. He had a family once…a girlfriend…people that meant something to him. Haymitch took the ultimate hit for not complying and he doesn’t want the same for us.

I turn to look up at Peeta and he nods.

Going back to our mentor, I meet Haymitch’s stare. “We understand.”

Slowly, he stands from the table. “I’ll leave you to…talk.”

“I’ll see you out,” Peeta tells Haymitch before looking to me. His hand reaches, a thumb brushing along my chin in affection. “Have something to eat.”

Haymitch nods before quickly squeezing my shoulder and then walking out.

I take a sip from my mug, listening as they head towards the door. I hear the murmur of their conversation as I reach for a roll before the door opens, then closes promptly.

Peeta returns, giving me a sanguine smile, and my lips rise seeing it as he gazes at me. I never realized how much those smiles mean to me; how seeing him so genuinely happy brings a warmth to my chest.

He pulls a seat next to mine. “That was a lot.”

“What were you two talking about before Haymitch left?”

Peeta’s complexion reddens.

“He wanted to make sure that I was treating you alright and you were doing the same,” he tells me. “I guess that we look like the type to—”

“Beat each other into submission?” Peeta nods and I snort. “Well, at least I do.”

He scoffs. “I’ve been known to hold my own.”

“I should go so you can get some rest,” I say, standing reluctantly. It is still early, with enough time for me to sneak back into my house before Effie and the rest of the team arrive in District 12. “I came really early—”

Peeta’s hands go to my hips, guiding me in front of him so that my bottom rests just slightly against the edge of table.

“No, I think I was the one who came really early.” He’s already doing the front button of my pants, and I’m helping him, unzipping and quickly pushing them off along with my panties, until they’re just a heap on the floor. “I believe I owe you.”

I close my eyes, sitting back against the table, palms along the cool wood as I hear the rustle of his undressing.

Then his hands are back at my hips, and I open my eyes right as he sheaths himself inside me with a tight grunt.

My arms reach around his neck as we begin to move slowly against one another.

“Well, I guess if you owe me—” I groan as he ground his pelvis against my clit with that perfect amount of pressure. “—I guess I can stay a little longer.”

Peeta chuckles huskily. “Now who’s beating who into submission?”

Then, he kisses me and—like he says—I submit.

++++++

Effie arrives in all her glory, gold hair and a metallic gold dress, teetering into my house on shoes so high I question how she even made it through the town. Behind her follow Flavius and Octavia, part of the stylist team, both giving me hugs and air kisses, so I don’t ruin their makeup.

“Oh, you look beautiful,” Octavia gushes. “You’re practically glowing!”

“Must be the love of a good man.” Flavius elbows me gently. “Right?”

I nod, pasting a smile on my face. “Exactly.”

To my relief, Cinna steps into the house. He’s wearing a black trench made of a metallic fabric, underneath is a simple knit shirt and black pants.

Finally, someone appropriately dressed for 12.

“Katniss.” Cinna smiles gently and pulls me into a hug. “How are you?”

Taking a deep breath, my thoughts on this morning with Peeta, I give him an honest smile. “I’m great.”

Cinna looks me over before his eyes meet mine and a smirk rises on his mouth.

“I see,” he replies quietly. “I’ll add nicer nightwear to your wardrobe.”

Cinna walks off to greet my mother and Prim, leaving me to contemplate his words.

Is the loss of my virginity that plain on my face?

I’m quickly taken away by Effie who goes over our itinerary, starting with our interview with Caesar here in District 12. Flavius and Octavia begin to discuss my hair and makeup.

Our sitting room has been set up with tables of makeup and racks of Cinna’s clothing. Flavius guides me to a vanity—a lit mirror ready to display all my flaws for them to see.

“Let’s get started,” Flavius declares as I take a seat in the chair facing the mirror. Octavia undoes my braid and reaches for a brush to comb the ends out. “We’ll do a little trim to get rid of the split ends.”

“I’ll even out your skin with some makeup,” Octavia says. She takes some clips on the table, pinning my hair back.

“Tomorrow, we’ll head out,” Effie continues as the team begins with their tasks. “It’s about a day’s trip to our first stop—District 11.” She looks to me anxiously, gauging my reaction.

Prim has come to join us, and Flavius quickly pulls up a chair for her.

I nod at Effie from the mirror. “Go on.”

“Then, we’ll continue the rest of the Districts, ending with the Capitol. Caesar will, of course, have another interview with you and Peeta. I think we should have Katniss and Peeta in matching outfits, of course—”

“What’s this?” Octavia suddenly asks.

Her finger is on my neck where the tiniest of bruised skin is displayed on the side.

“What happened?” Prim asked, her blue eyes alarmed. “Was this during a hunt?”

“No, it wasn’t,” I assure her, giving her a tight smile. The memory of Peeta coming inside me this morning atop his kitchen table, his mouth on my neck, has my face going hot. “It’s nothing, really.”

Octavia gives me a bright grin. “I didn’t know Peeta had it in him.”

Effie tuts at the woman. “Please, we have innocent ears here. Let’s not be vulgar!”

“I’m sure Prim knows a little bit about romance,” Flavius says, quickly giving my blushing sister a smile.

“Not much,” Prim tells him quietly, her eyes on me in curiosity.

I know there will be questions later.

“This is a quick fix,” Octavia assures me, reaching for a small container. “Just some concealer…” She pats the makeup onto the bruise, blending it until its nonexistent. “There you go. Just make sure to tell Peeta to be a little gentler when you’re alone.”

I nod in agreement when I really want to shake my head.

++++++

Cinna buttons my coat, a charcoal grey number that fits me perfectly.

“One more thing,” he says and takes my Mockingjay pin to place on the lapel. Then, he arranges my braid onto my shoulder. “Lovely.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, trying to smile behind the amount of makeup I have on my face.

“We’re starting soon!” Effie calls out shrilly. She always gets uptight when it comes to Capitol events. Her job is to make sure that our team is perfect, everything running on time and to Snow’s expectations. “Katniss, come along!”

I head over to the front door; I’m supposed to meet Peeta between our homes where we’ll do our interview with Caesar—live and in front of all of Panem.

As I arrive to the door, a hand reaches at my shoulder—Prim.

I look over her face, her wide blue eyes staring at me. “Are you alright?”

“Is it real?”

“What?”

Prim moves in closer, just enough to keep Effie from hearing.

“I know you’re not always hunting in the morning,” Prim admits. “Rory mentioned that Gale is all bent out of shape about it. There’s only one other place I know you would go—and you wouldn’t go unless you wanted to.”

I place my hands on her shoulders. “You’re a very smart girl.”

“Then, it is real?” she asks once more.

“Katniss!” Effie calls out. “They’re waiting for you!”

I give Prim a smile, knowing whatever I tell her will be the truth. I could never lie to her.

“More than I’d like it to be.”

I dash over to the open door and outside before Effie drags me out by my braid.

It’s freezing. A light snow has fallen on the ground and I blow a quick breath into the air. The door to Peeta’s house opens and I see him stepping out onto the porch. Our eyes meet, steps in-sync going down the steps, and onto the ground before we rush towards one another.

After being separated for just a few hours, I feel unglued, and it’s the realization that I’ve honestly missed Peeta and will miss our small moments together that has me tackling him to the ground.

We both laugh, smiles bright, and his eyes glow bluer than I’ve ever seen.

Suddenly, I’m rolled onto my back and Peeta is gazing down at me, his hand caressing my chin with a familiarity that causes my blood to burn.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, panting with want.

“This.” Peeta leans down to kiss me and it’s like we’re not live in front of cameras. The world is our own again. Gently, he moves away, kissing the tip of my nose. “Now everyone in Panem knows who you belong to.”

I arch a brow at him. “I don’t—”

“Katniss! Peeta!” We both turn at the sound of Caesar’s amused voice. “Sorry to interrupt your tête-à-tête, but we’d all love to hear from you!”

Peeta helps me up, our hands entwining, as we smile into the camera.

We fall easily into some light banter with the host, talking about our lives here in District 12, our beautiful homes, and of course, our love story. I tell Caesar, my side press to Peeta’s, about all the baking that he’s been doing. Peeta, eyes on me, adds that he’s been teaching me how to bake since we can’t mention my hunting.

“I’ve heard that the ladies have been fawning all over your love story,” Caesar says. “Katniss, how are you dealing with fending them off Peeta?”

I feel my jaw tighten at the question and Peeta stiffens against me.

Somehow, I knew that Snow would have gotten word about the other women.

“Katniss?”

“Well,” I begin. “I trust Peeta. He knows better than to tempt my jealousy.”

“And there’s never been anyone but Katniss in my heart,” Peeta says. I can feel his eyes on me. “Even if she never believes me!”

That earns a laugh from the man and the moment of tension is quickly dissipated.

Caesar thanks us and before we know it, the cameras are off.

I turn away from Peeta, not wanting him to see my hurt—but he’s already tugging my hand and pulling me back into his arms.

Peeta’s expression is full of remorse. “Katniss—”

“Well, at least we played it well for the cameras,” I spit out bitterly. “Even if Snow might know about the others—”

“I meant it, Katniss,” he tells me. “No one else. Only you. Even at our worst, it’s only ever been you.”

“I don’t like feeling jealous, knowing Snow can see it.” I look down at the ground. “I hate that he can take everything we’ve done and hold it over us.”

“Not everything,” Peeta says quietly. “He can’t see how beautiful you look when you’re sleeping or the smile you give me after you’ve been satisfied.” Lifting my chin, Peeta reaches to caress my cheek, his eyes gazing tenderly into mine. “He can’t see those moments when it’s not for the camera. When it’s real. We’re not going to let him. Right?”

I nod sullenly. “Right.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am for the others—”

“Don’t.” I shake my head vehemently. “Don’t ruin this with talk about them. I wasn’t kidding when I told Caesar that you knew better than to tempt my jealousy.”

“Alright,” Peeta replies quietly. His finger moves along the outline of my lip. “It’s only us. Remember that.”

There’s a cough from Haymitch and we turn to find our team watching us.

Our mentor raises a brow as Effie tries—unsuccessfully—to keep her tears from ruining her makeup. Flavius and Octavia both look like they’re about to swoon while Cinna and Portia, Peeta’s stylist, watch in amusement.

At some point, Prim and my mother must have come out to watch the taping.

My sister’s lips are formed in a soft smile while my mother looks concerned—likely from the thought that I’m another girl on Peeta’s list. I feel a strained talk about relationships coming my way, though I’ve practically made every important decision in my life without her input.

“I should go,” I tell Peeta. “We have a train ride tomorrow.”

Peeta nods though he doesn’t let go. “I’m going to hate waking up without you beside me.”

I step back and out of his arms. “Me, too.”

Then, I turn and walk away before I find myself running into the safety of his arms once again.

++++++

_District 11_

I can’t breathe.

The Peacekeepers shot a man right in front of me.

It started calmly enough; we had our prepared speeches and greeted the citizens of District 11. The whole place is full of orchards and large farms. The mayor offered us a fruit basket which Peeta and I accepted with bright smiles on our faces.

It all went downhill from there.

My words are stilted and obviously insincere; I can see the blankness on the citizens’ faces as I read everything written for me. Peeta has more luck than I do, being so natural with his words. He barely reads from the cards given to us and instead thanks everyone for their support.

We are about to leave and one of Rue’s siblings looks to me, tears in the little one’s eyes. I see my fallen friend in those sweet eyes, and I think that if it had been the other way around—Rue would have said something to Prim to help comfort her.

So, I step up to the mic.

I start to talk about Rue, how she had been my friend and ally. How she reminded me of Prim and how I can’t even look at the flowers in our yard without thinking of the ones I placed among her before she was taken away from the arena. Then, I talk about Thresh and how without him giving me a chance, I would’ve died. How I owe my life to him.

It happened so fast…the four-note tune that Rue had taught me rings out from the lips of an old man with kind eyes…then everyone’s fingers are up in the District 12 gesture that I myself had given after Rue’s death…and then the Peacekeepers are there…and the man is being dragged—

Another wail escapes my mouth as I sit in my room on the train.

Haymitch and Peeta practically dragged me back to the train, screaming and crying.

It’s all fruitless. No matter what I do, Snow will believe that I had something to do with what happened today.

I only wanted to give Rue and Thresh’s family comfort.

Instead, there is a man dead because of me.

I don’t know how long I’ve been in my room, but it’s already night. We’re far enough away from the trouble I’ve caused, the train running smoothly along the tracks towards the next District.

There’s a knock on my door and Peeta steps inside in his pajamas.

“Go away,” I tell him hoarsely. “I don’t want to do anything with you tonight.”

I turn away from my spot on the floor.

“Of course, we’re not doing anything,” he tells me calmly. “You didn’t come to dinner and everyone is worried.” Pulling me up, Peeta makes me sit on the bed before going into my bathroom. “Haymitch and I told Effie to ease up for the night. She’s all upset that you didn’t stick to your cards.”

He comes back with a washcloth and then kneels before me, wiping my flushed face with the cool cloth.

“Priorities,” I retorted before I feel the tears filling my eyes again. “Oh God, what did I do?”

“Nothing.” His hands go to my face, cupping my wet cheeks. “You were just trying to give two families some solace after having lost their children.”

“What’s worse is we have to keep doing this,” I say to him. “And I don’t have anything else to say about the others. Do I thank Clove’s family for her trying to kill me? Or Finch’s for her eating the nightlock instead of you?”

Peeta stands from his spot, sitting next to me. “I don’t know.”

My head goes to his shoulder.

“That’s about the best thing I’ve heard today. I’m trying so hard to come up with solutions and coming up with nothing. I’m glad to know I’m not alone.”

Peeta nods, standing and reaching into one of my drawers to take out some pajamas—or what are supposed to be pajamas.

Cinna must’ve taken the new nightwear idea seriously.

Taking the scrap of fabric, I quickly change and place my rumpled clothing into a small hamper next to the drawers.

Peeta gestures at the sheer green nightgown. “What is that?”

“I guess something for you to enjoy,” I grumble.

“I enjoy you naked, not freezing,” he retorts and removes the robe he’s wearing. “Put this on and get under the covers.”

I take the grey robe and put it on, tying it tightly before getting into bed.

Peeta doesn’t hesitate to slip in, his arms wrapping around me.

“What are you doing?”

“I need you to protect me,” Peeta tells me.

“I can barely protect myself,” I reply before turning to him.

Bringing my head to his chest, I place my hand where I can feel his heart beating. It’s comforting, that rhythm that let’s me know that he’s flesh and bone.

“We’ll protect each other,” he replies. Kissing my forehead, Peeta tightens his hold on me. “Go to sleep.”

“Before we sleep—what are we?”

Peeta sits up and I push myself onto my side, elbow on the mattress. “What would you like to be?”

“Friends?” I suggest. “I mean, we are friends, right?”

“We’d actually have to talk in order to be friends,” he retorts. “The only talking we’ve done is not-so-friendly.”

“But it gets you off,” I say with a snort and Peeta laughs, falling back onto the pillow next to mine.

“Well, what’s your favorite color?” he asks me suddenly.

“This is the root of our friendship? My favorite color?”

“No, fucking is the root of our friendship,” he says with a smirk. “I just want to know your favorite color.”

“Green.” Peeta turns to me, surprise at my acquiesce. “Like my hunting jacket. And you?”

“Orange,” he informs me. “Like the sunset.”

“That’s beautiful.” Peeta reaches, pulling me right back against him. My hand goes to his chest, to where his heart is beating. “Thank you for telling me, _friend_.”

Peeta leans down brushing his lips along mine. “Goodnight, friend.”

I close my eyes, settling against Peeta for the long ride ahead.

“Katniss?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” he says quietly, insecurity in his words. “At least, I hope we’re not just friends. I don’t want us to be _just_ friends—"

“Neither do I.” I take his hand, entwining our fingers. I press my lips to the space above his heart. “Go to sleep, Peeta.”

We sleep.

The next morning, I come down for breakfast to find Peeta wearing a green sweater.

Just for me.

++++++

Days on the tour seem blur with the endless cycle of District visits and speeches, each one as difficult as the one before. The visit to Finch’s District is particularly painful as we face her parents, who are so understanding about the whole nightlock incident that Peeta vomits as soon as we get on the train.

“I stupidly picked the berries that killed her, and they understood!” he sobs against me on the floor of my bathroom.

“There is nothing more for them to do but understand,” I say. “You didn’t shove them into her mouth. You didn’t know she was following you. And Finch was unbelievably good at plant identification, it was surprising—”

I stop at my next statement.

“You think she did it on purpose,” Peeta finishes.

“I don’t know that,” I reply helplessly. “We don’t know if she was delirious with hunger or hallucinating because of tracker jacker poison. Peeta, we can go over it as many times as we want, but it’s not going to bring any of them back…”

“I know,” he replies, standing up slowly. Taking a washcloth, I dampen it and put it to his face. His hand goes to the one patting his face and he presses a kiss to my wrist. “Thank you, Katniss.”

Like he told me, we protect each other.

Somewhere along the way, we begin to take care of one another.

Nights are filled with talks about our lives before the Games.

I tell him about my father, how I miss him and how sometimes I am still angry at my mother for almost letting me and Prim starve. How grateful I am that Peeta saved our lives.

That night, I climb on top of him, sinking onto his cock and ride us both to loud completions.

The next day, Haymitch shakes his head at us and Effie is blushing through her makeup.

Peeta tells me about his life at the bakery; how he can never understand how his kind father can be married to someone who browbeats him constantly. How his oldest brother is intelligent, but his personality can be very cold like their mother’s. His other brother is like their father, but sickly. It was the reason that he didn’t volunteer in Peeta’s place.

“I wouldn’t have allowed it, anyway,” he tells me. “I asked him to live with me in Victors’ Village, but he’s comfortable at home and so I just pay for any appointments or medication he needs. My parents didn’t ask for anything else.”

I think of how his mother so badly treated him the day he helped me and how he still manages to find more hope in living than I can, and realize how badly I need Peeta by my side—not just as a friend or a lover.

As a partner.

That night, I welcome him into my arms and inside me. We move slowly and languidly, enjoying one another’s gentle coaxing to mind-shattering climaxes.

It’s the first night that I can call it lovemaking.

We tread a fine line, pretending to be the Star-Crossed Lovers during our days and just being Katniss and Peeta at night.

However, between the beginning of friendship, there is unrest in the Districts.

Each one we visit, there are rebels who willingly get arrested for saluting Peeta and I or asking us what really happened in the arena. We watch the constant barrage of videos of citizens leading rebellions against Peacekeepers then watch Districts go up in flames.

By the time we leave District 1, Haymitch is convinced that Snow believes that we can’t keep up this façade.

“What do you suggest we do?” I ask our mentor as we sit in the last cart of the train for some privacy.

“I’m not sure,” he tells me wearily.

“We can get married,” Peeta suddenly says.

I turn to him, not quite believing his words. “What?”

“That’s what he wants, right?” Peeta can’t look me in the eyes. “Something to distract the Districts? What’s more distracting than a wedding between the Star-Crossed Lovers?”

Haymitch looks to me. “What do you think?”

“If you think it’s the smartest choice, then let’s do it,” I finally say, trying to catch Peeta’s eyes. Instead, he nods stiffly, before standing and walking out of the cart. I look to our mentor. “Why is he upset? He’s the one who suggested it.”

“Because he wanted it to be real,” Haymitch tells me and stands. “I’ll go tell Effie and the crew the good news.”

Then he steps out, leaving me alone with thoughts more confusing than the other.

++++++

That night, I come to him.

At my request, Cinna created a rust colored nightie; it’s the closest to Peeta’s favorite color without looking garish. I walk into his room wearing it, slipping underneath his sheets, and winding my arms around his firm waist.

“Not tonight, Katniss,” he grumbles.

“I heard that marriage really is the end of sex, but we’re not even close—”

Peeta turns to me. “Not funny.”

“It got you to look at me, didn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes, but pulls me close, nonetheless.

“We don’t have to do this,” I continue. “Marriage is a sacred step. We have two sets of parents and they’ve shown us the good and the bad parts of it. Most of all—it’s forever. At least, in my mind.”

“I’m aware,” he tells me. “I feel the same way. But look at what’s happening in the Districts. There are people dying. I don’t want to see District 12 go up in flames because we weren’t convincing enough.” His eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted.”

“It’s not that,” I tell him. “The truth is that I never wanted to get married—because I don’t want children.”

“Because of the Games,” Peeta concludes. “You don’t want to take the risk of watching them go to a Reaping or watching them die on a screen. I understand.”

He understands me more than anyone.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want children. You want them, but you’re already worried for them,” he points out, before pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “They’re not even here and you already love them.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, and he chuckles quietly against me. “I always imagined _if_ I ever got married, it would be a toasting—not some trumped-up Capitol wedding.”

“I know.” Peeta leans down and kisses me softly. “You’re a romantic.” I open my mouth to protest, but his lips press to my neck and I lose myself as a shiver travels down my center. “I think it would’ve broken my heart if you had a toasting with someone who wasn’t me.”

“Now we’ll never know.” I reach to caress his face as my other hand reaches underneath the waistband of his pants to take him in my hand. His eyes close, a grounded moan escaping through his clenched teeth as my hand moves along his cock. “When you propose to me, make it a good one. It might be the only one we get.”

“Deal,” he says, his eyes full on me. Peeta’s hand goes to a strap of my gown. “Is this for me?”

“No.” However, I can’t stop the smile on my lips as he moves the straps off my shoulders and gently pulls the front down, exposing my breasts. “Okay, maybe.”

“Would it be horrible if we had some sort of honeymoon prior to the wedding?”

His hands easily slip the rest of the nightie off me and down to the floor. Then, he pulls his shirt over his head before moving his pants off to join my gown.

It’s so fluid the way we come together that sometimes I forget where he ends and where I begin. I don’t want to tell him that is how I see marriage, as being one. Or how I feel that we are already there.

Instead, we make love, becoming lost in one another, and not even the lights of the Capitol could dim whatever has grown between us.

++++++

The proposal is a success.

Going on Caesar’s show is daunting, but with Peeta, it is not so bad.

Our banter is comfortable and intimate. Our eyes meet, gazes full of tenderness which makes the audience squeal and swoon. Caesar is practically panting over us, dying to get details over our love affair.

“What are you and Peeta looking forward to now that the Victory Tour has come to an end?”

“The future,” I tell him as Peeta dutifully takes my hand. The comforting squeeze is for me and me alone. “We look forward to creating our home before this next Reaping.”

“So, you’ve decided to move in together?” Caesar asks. “Making a love nest all your own?”

“Actually—” Peeta is suddenly down on one knee before me, his hand reaching into pocket and pulling out a velvet box. I see that he is actually nervous, which I find completely endearing. “Katniss, I know that this has been crazy time for us. However, with you by my side, it’s been…manageable—”

I laugh through the sudden onslaught of tears welling in my eyes. The audience has gone silent, waiting with bated breath.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that—” His eyes meet mine, the lights of the set on us. “—I love you and I will until there’s no breath left in my body. I hope that you feel the same.”

He opens the box, revealing the ring to my shocked eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

The audience is at their feet and I find myself overcome by his words.

However, I join him on the floor—in the fluffy skirt that Effie insisted I wear—and I throw my arms around him.

“Yes.” I say it with more conviction than I realize. Peeta’s mouth widens at my words, his head tilted in a teasing expression. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Then, he is slipping the ring on my finger.

It’s an ornate gold band with small diamonds on each side of an oval-shaped yellow diamond. I can’t help but gasp at its elegant beauty.

“It’s a canary diamond,” Peeta tells me. “Not too close to a Mockingjay, but I had a theme going—”

“It’s perfect,” I say and give him a kiss.

Caesar is beside himself, so much so that he’s almost unable to announce that he has a very special guest.

I nearly vomit seeing President Snow standing before Peeta and me.

“Congratulations, Miss Everdeen and Mr. Mellark,” he says in a snide drawl. “All of Panem looks forward to your grand wedding and we cannot wait to see what the future holds after your union.”

“Thank you,” I say hollowly.

Peeta pulls me into an embrace, his mouth against my neck so the camera can’t catch his words.

“Did it work?”

My eyes go to Snow watching us and then I see the almost imperceptible shake of his head—and my heart falls to the pit of my stomach.

I grip Peeta tightly, tears hitting my cheeks. “No. It didn’t work.”

It’s should’ve worked.

Because at the shake of Snow’s head, I realize something.

I am in love with Peeta.

++++++

Back on the train, we disappear into my room.

His mouth is on mine as soon as the door closes, swallowing me whole as I frantically reach to the belt buckle of his pants to undo him. Peeta presses me against the door, a hand reaching underneath the many layers of my skirt to pull my panties off.

My hand is already at his cock, pumping him frantically as he rucks up my skirt, his mouth traveling down to the juncture of my neck before sucking harshly.

There will be a mark, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

We’re already marked.

For what, we don’t know.

Then, Peeta is thrusting inside me as my legs wrap around him, my heels digging into the small of his back.

We fuck each other brutally, our moans unrepentantly deafening to anyone near.

We chase our own satisfaction.

Because who knows what the future brings, what we’ll be coming home to.

Maybe there won’t be a District 12 by the time we get there.

I can feel myself on the edge of something. Every time we have been together, I have always brought myself to a climax, hand between my legs and on my clit.

This time, the feeling grows without my stimuli, I’m right there about to come all over his cock without touching myself—

“Peeta!” My eyes squeeze shut as my orgasm takes over my body, blinding me to everything as I ground myself against him, desperate to take in every second of this goodness flowing through my body.

My cunt is pulsating…gripping him, and Peeta growls against my skin, thrusting roughly, the sound of my body hitting the door echoing into the room before he falls apart, filling me with his spent.

We slide down to the floor together, him still inside me.

“It didn’t work,” he says brokenly.

“I know,” I say, my words thick. “I’m sorry.”

We fall apart on the floor of that train.

But we do it together.

+++++++

_One Month Later…_

“I better go.” I reach down and grab my shirt off the floor of our bedroom. It has long stopped being Peeta’s room as I’m there pretty much every morning and some nights when a nightmare has me escaping my own bed. “Are you coming to our place later?”

Peeta sits up, moving close to where I sit. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’m sure you’re very excited to hear what’s in store for District 12’s newest mentors,” I reply, my hand running through his mussed locks.

There’s a mandatory screening later this evening, and we assume that it’s an announcement about the upcoming Games.

“As much as you’re excited for another one of Effie’s messages about Panem’s most anticipated wedding,” Peeta replies quietly. “Sorry, she’s been giving you so much grief.”

“It’s not like she’s been the only one,” I tell him with a rueful smile.

Since our return, the news of our engagement has been met with a series of reactions. Most of the citizens are supportive, even throwing a celebratory party for Peeta and me upon our return. Some are envious. Many of Peeta’s paramours glare at me whenever we are in town, their eyes going to the ring that I wear despite no longer being on camera.

I wear it because Peeta picked it out just for me.

Then, there are those who choose to ignore me.

Specifically, Gale.

We met once after my return.

Behind the fence, I found him one morning when I decided to go for a hunt. He was setting one of the traps as I approached, and the sound of my boots had him shooting up from his spot.

“It’s you.” Gale sneered, his grey eyes going sharp at the sight of me. “I suppose you want a congratulations.”

“No, I just wanted to say that it wasn’t for the cameras.”

“You’re a fool.” He kicked at the dirt. “You saw how many women he’s been with! And now you’re one of them.”

“I’m aware.” I leaned against the tree, eyes on his hunched form. “Peeta and I have talked about it. I’ve forgiven him and he’s apologized more times than I can remember. I’m not making excuses for either of us. I’m here because I just want you to be careful. There’s something going on in the other districts—uprisings—and they’ve only been increasing—”

“Maybe there needs to be an uprising in District 12.” His eyes full of steel. “We can’t all keep living like this and losing people. I’ve already lost you to the Games.”

I didn’t want to tell him that he never had me.

“Keep safe, okay?” I head back towards the fence. “Goodbye, Gale.”

Since then, I haven’t seen him. Gale has now relegated his days to the mines and nights to picking up where Peeta left off. I can’t fault him, with times like these, we need people by our side even if it’s just for the night.

“Where did you go?” Peeta asks, his mouth to my ear, as he pulls me from my recollections.

I lay back on the mattress, letting out a yawn.

“Just nervous about the Quell and what it means for you and me.”

I am exhausted by the thought of becoming a mentor. Every time Peeta and I walk through town, I can’t help but watch the children. Which one of these kids will we have to mentor…which ones will we watch die on screen?

I reach to my stomach, feeling the need to be sick.

“I know.” Peeta pulls me close, kissing my shoulder affectionately. “We’re going to help whoever is chosen to the best of our ability. We’re one of the younger mentors so we still know what’s in store.”

“What if it’s Prim?” I ask him.

“Then, you’ll burn that arena to the ground,” Peeta tells me. “I know that you don’t want to think about this, but we started something when we tried to eat the nightlock. You have a following now as the Mockingjay. If something happened to Prim, the Capitol would be destroyed.”

“Mockingjay, Star-Crossed Lover, Katniss Everdeen…” I whisper and turn to him. “I don’t even know which one I am anymore.”

“The one takes care of me, Haymitch, and her family,” he replies, his hands at my cheek. “The one who found a way to forgive me. The one I lov—”

“Don’t say it because you’re afraid of what happens next,” I tell him.

“Is that why you won’t say it?” he questions.

I have no reply.

++++++

Peeta, since our return, has become a constant visitor to my home.

Prim adores him; they get to know one another by painting together on our front porch. My mother, once wary of him, allows him to bake in our kitchen. He makes cheese rolls for me and scones for her—a favorite when she was pregnant with Prim.

Eventually, Haymitch joins our party. He comes over for dinner occasionally, teaching Prim how to play chess before playing against Peeta. I often find them in the sitting room, arguing over a move while Prim watches in amusement.

This evening is no different, we are all gathered in the sitting room when the one-tone signal comes from the television and Snow appears on the screen. I drop between Prim and Peeta on the couch. My mother sits on our lounger while Haymitch stands behind her.

“ _Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the Hunger Games…_ ” Snow begins.

He talks about the history of the Quell; the First Quell where the Districts voted on who to send, the Second Quell where there were twice as many tributes sent into the arena, and now that we have come to the Third Quell, it is time to announce what will happen during these Games.

Snow reaches into a wooden box, pulling out an envelope, and opening it.

Unfolding the paper inside, he looks to the screen before reading out:

“ _As a reminder, that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol. On this, the Third Quarter Quell game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district.”_

I feel myself sink to the carpet.

Everything seems to blur around me and somewhere I can hear my mother’s wailing in anguish.

“What is happening?” Prim asks, her frightened words cutting through the fog.

I turn to her, my eyes growing heavy with tears.

“I’m going back into the arena."

My stomach turns once more and I’m scrambling up. I can hear Peeta calling out my name as I tear my front door open and stumble onto the front porch.

“Katniss!” I hear his footsteps behind me as I crumble onto the ground and begin to vomit. Peeta’s voice is thick with tears. “It’s okay…” He rubs my back as I continue to throw up until I can taste the rawness of blood. I feel him pull me against him as I erupt in incoherent sobs. He presses kisses onto my sweaty hair. “…I’m coming with you, Katniss. I promise—you’re coming out of there alive.”

I only cry harder.

++++++

When I wake up, it’s already night.

I am in my bed, my head on Peeta’s chest, who is fast asleep. Shifting causes Peeta to awaken and he gives me a pained smile, pulling me closer.

My fingers reach to trace along his lips. “What happened?”

“You vomited all over the front yard and then passed out,” he explains. “Your mother had me bring you up here and then insisted I stay. She understands that we need each other, especially now that we’ll be going into the arena again.” He looks to me desperately. “We’ll be smart about this. We’ll need to have a plan.”

“And if Haymitch gets picked—”

“I told him if he gets picked, then I’m volunteering.” Peeta moves my hair from my face. “You’re not facing this without me. I won’t allow it.”

“And if I tell you not to volunteer for him?” I question.

“Not even you can stop me,” he declares, eyes determined. “You’re going to be my wife. There’s no way—”

“The wedding won’t happen!” I shout, my eyes blurring. “The Quell will happen before then! Don’t you see? It didn’t work. This is our punishment for not convincing him. For _me_ , not convincing him—”

“This is not about him anymore,” Peeta tells me. “You’ve started something in the Districts and that’s what scares him. Let’s give him more to fear.”

“What do you mean?” I ask quietly.

“How do you think the Capitol will feel about their beloved Mockingjay being sent back into the arena?” he explains. “While we’re there, we play up our love story. Tell everyone how upset that we won’t have the wedding…find allies among the other Victors…something is happening, and I think that Haymitch knows something.”

“How do you know?”

“Everything I’m telling you, he told me,” he says. “We just have to learn how to play the game.” Peeta lifts my chin, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “Do you trust me?”

I trust him more than anyone. “Yes.”

“Then, know that I won’t stop fighting for you…for us.” Peeta settles me back onto my pillow, staring down at me tenderly. “You are my whole life, Katniss Everdeen. I’m sorry I took so much time to realize it.”

“Peeta.” My throat tightens as I gaze at this man before me. “Marry me.”

He swallows my words roughly. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

++++++

We don’t tell anyone.

Two nights later, we walk into Peeta’s house—actually, he carries me over the threshold—and together we start a fire. He’s baked a beautiful loaf, hearty and made with love, which I hope is an allegory for our marriage.

In District 12, no couple really feels married until they’ve done a toasting.

As we toast our pieces in the fireplace and feed each other, we feel it—that infinite bond that unites us and will continue to until death do we part.

We make love by that fireplace until the embers fade and the room goes cold, but we have each other to keep warm as we always have.

I wake up in the morning, dazed and dizzy.

I realize that I haven’t bled in…weeks.

I believe it’s stress.

I hope it is.

++++++

Though I know my name is going to be called, I still feel the tears well up in my eyes as Effie says it out loud.

Our escort looks to me, an expression of pain plain on her face.

I walk over to the front of the stage, head held high.

However, I bite back a cry when Haymitch’s name is called instead of Peeta’s.

My husband is already holding our mentor back, declaring himself a volunteer before joining me. Our hands reach for one another, fingers entwining as we look out at the citizens of District 12.

My mother stands next to Prim, her hands on my sister’s shoulders protectively, though I can feel her pain as she watches me.

It’s the kind of pain that only a mother can understand.

I push the feeling away, afraid that it will overwhelm me.

Instead I take a deep breath as Effie announces Peeta and I as the Tributes for the 75th Hunger Games.

**FIN**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this was supposed to be a simple story of Katniss being jealous about Peeta sleeping around, but then it turned into this.
> 
> I’m not super sorry about it because it kind of got me back to the actual Hunger Games world.
> 
> Yes, there are changes, but I tried to keep it as close to the book as possible. I also realize that there was stuff omitted, but well…like any story or movie—changes needed to be made for plot purposes.
> 
> Just a quick note if you didn’t know Finch is Foxface’s name or so I’ve heard.
> 
> I will leave you to your own conclusions about Katniss’ condition.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I would actually love to revisit this world.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Until the next story,
> 
> JLaLa

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have any notes but I do hope that everyone keeps an open mind. Everlark is in a strange place right now.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I'll hopefully see you at the next part!
> 
> -LaLa


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